


Maintenance

by SenkoWakimarin



Category: Moon Knight (Comics), Punisher (Comics)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Gen, implied romantic feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 10:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17744036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: In the aftermath of a fight that almost got Frank killed, David sets about repairing damaged augments. Marc comments from the sidelines. Frank honestly just needs a nap.





	Maintenance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kokopellifacetattoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokopellifacetattoo/gifts).



> So, cyberpunk AU. Is a thing. Because Juice is rad. I've got a bunch of disconnected ficlets in the works, which are gonna eventually go up in a collection. Main ship for the AU is FrankMarc (still gonna call it Moonisher because portmanteau beats name mashing every time) but David is definitely a fixture in a lot of them. Eventually Matt Murdock as well. All you gotta know for know, going into this, is that Frank got basically half his body blown off and is heavily augmented to compensate. Marc is a mechanical mess. David has no augments to speak of.

David is a soft, tired looking man. He wears thick glasses, because evidently he was willing to trust his life to machines, but not his eyes. His hands move with calm, clinical certainty in the exposed wiring of Frank’s open shoulder, and though Frank can’t actually feel anything with so much disconnected for maintenance, he can tell by David’s exhausted acceptance that none of the damage is really that bad.

“You know, I worked hard, figuring this all out when we upgraded last year,” David says, fatigue leeching the snark out of his tone. It’s twenty past three in the morning, or thereabouts, so Frank supposes David has a right to be tired. Especially given that he’d been woken by Marc an hour ago, and Frank knew damn well Marc wouldn’t have stopped to rinse the blood off himself before going for David. 

Probably thought it funny when David immediately panicked, assuming the worst. 

“I mean, I know you guys can’t carry a the wiring plans with you, but like, you could try? To put things the way they’re supposed to be?” David continues. His hands move so fast and so steady in the inner workings of Frank’s back now, it’s hard to believe they’re not augmented. “This is a mess. A complete mess.”

“Field medicine needs to be effective, not pretty,” Frank says evenly. Marc, sitting across the room, makes a noise like he thought that was funny, and David sighs. 

“I’m just trying to figure out why one of you decided  _ this _ ,” he tugs gently on one of the shorter connective wires that should run between the plate that makes up his left scapula and should plug neatly into the nearest spinal port, “should have been stretched across to  _ here _ ,” he raps this fingernail against a port at the nape of Frank’s neck, one of the jacks that he could use to hardwire into VR, “even though you had to have been able to feel that the wire was a, stretched too far, and b, not properly plugged in.”

“I didn’t like leaving it hang loose,” Marc says, breezy. “And I figured getting him here alive was a more preferable option to getting him killed fussing over it while on the street.”

Frank snorts. Now that no one is shooting at them while Marc hurriedly shoves connections in place, trying to get Frank up and moving, shielding him with his armored body as Frank tries to focus through the agony to return fire, the situation is just kind of funny. Yeah, he’d been able to feel that shit wasn’t together correctly, but there was no permanent damage, and the memory of Marc cursing darkly as his fingers fumbled with David’s complicated wiring and moving plates was certainly something he was going to enjoy.

Yeah, when he’s not actively crouched on the pavement, bloody and sparking from where wires have frayed and unable to get a significant portion of his left side to move, it was easy to twist the memory of Marc’s voice and long, elegant, weapon-calloused fingers winding deep in the sensitive inner workings of his augments. Cut away the fear, make it into something else. 

David sighs. David doesn’t think it’s funny, because David never thinks any of their close calls are funny. He gave up telling Frank to be careful long before Frank brought Marc into the picture, and he seems to understand that Marc doesn’t really have much in the way of a sense of self preservation. 

And Frank knows that the irritated exhaustion David projects is largely to disguise how much he cares. 

“Perhaps colour coding the connections would help,” Marc suggests, and Frank bites back a chuckle and David stops to glare at Marc. Marc is good at needling him, better than Frank, despite the fact that Frank has known David much longer than Marc. 

After a few seconds of David glowering across the room at an utterly unimpressed Marc, Frank’s shoulders start to shake, and David smacks his flesh forearm. It stings, and that’s what finally makes Frank give up and actually laugh.

“Me being colour blind is  _ not _ funny.” David says primly, and Frank laughs harder, because that’s not really the point, but it’s as good of an excuse as any. If there’s a sort of manic edge to the laughter, no one calls him on it. After all, he almost died. 

Again.

It takes a moment, but Frank reigns in the laughter, the same way he reigns in most strong emotions; biting down on it and burying it. When he nods, sober again, David goes back to work. He and Marc continue to snipe at one another, the sort of taunting, venomless back and forth that defines their friendship. It’s soothing, in a weird way, enough that Frank can finally close his eyes, focusing on the vague discomfort of sensation returning to his augments as David makes connections. As his breathing deepens, he can feel the bruised ribs and various non-life-threatening wounds scattered across his body.

There’s comfort in that, in the deep aches one can really only feel through flesh and bone. Pain is part of being alive. If he hurts, he’s alive.

“Are you seriously going to sleep while you’ve got David wrist-deep in your back?”

Frank says nothing. He really is somewhere between awake and asleep, and if he focuses on Marc’s taunting voice, he’ll wake up entirely. He thinks he’s earned some rest, honestly.

He lasts long enough to hear David say, “He does this all the time. It’s like tucking a kid into bed.” Long enough to hear the considering noise Marc makes and the way David laughs in response.

It’s weird, trusting people this much. To fall asleep around, to protect him when he’s injured, to care. But David has always been this way, a stiff-backed comfort, all dry humor and gentle hands. Marc knows how to watch out for himself, and that’s something Frank needs -- someone he doesn’t have to worry about so much. 

So he falls asleep to that, to the sound of them united in gentle mockery of him. And really, it’s some of the best sleep he could ask for.

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone should bully Juice into getting an AO3 and posting the gorgeous art they've done of the AU designs so I can add them to the collection. You know, for visuals.


End file.
